The Winter We Collided: A Small Town Single Dad Romance (Ocean Pines Series Book 2)

by Victoria Denault

  Logan points at the open door and Chewie wanders out. Our eyes meet again but his aren’t smoldering anymore. That’s good, so why do I feel disappointment? “I’m only a phone call away.”

  “Thanks.” I wave like a dork and close the door behind him.

  What the hell was that?

  I put down Boss and force myself to walk back into the kitchen instead of leaning against the door over-analyzing the spontaneous flirt-fest I accidentally started there. I sit at the kitchen table, Boss sits at my feet, and Stevie wanders off to her food dish for a morning bite. “Apparently snuggling the tenant all night works up an appetite, eh old lady?”

  My snark is ignored, of course. After my coffee, I take some ibuprofen as he suggested, and I shower. I think of Logan the whole time, which is crazy. He was nothing but professional and kind but…the fact that I showered with him and it felt so damn good despite the trauma I was in the middle of makes my cheeks turn red. And now that I’m past the worst part of my concussion, and I think back on last night, other things besides his bedside manner come to mind.

  Like his body.

  Logan has tight, lean muscles, perfect alabaster skin, a thick treasure trail a shade darker than his hair color, a rippled stomach and tattoos.

  I read the words on the left side of his torso this morning, but last night I saw more ink on the right side. I just couldn’t read it with my vision problems. He also had a triangle in a circle on the inside of his right bicep with words there too. I don’t have tattoos, but I’ve always been mildly obsessed with them. Picking something to be permanently etched on your body takes balls I’ve never had. But I’ve always found that kind of confidence and conviction attractive.

  I push thoughts of him out of my head as I step out of the shower and towel myself dry and then examine my reflection critically in the full-length mirror behind the door in my bedroom. Thank God I had that modest one-piece bathing suit. It covered my scars perfectly so poor Logan didn’t have to see them. I mean, I’m sure he’s seen scars before, but mine…I am horrified by them, so I expect everyone else to be too.

  I twist my body, dropping the towel so I can examine the ones on my back. I have a perfectly straight scar down my spinal column from my shoulder blades to my lower back and then another curving one that moves from the top of my butt across and over my right hip where they fixed my hip and another on the left side, moving toward my abdomen where they put in screws to hold my pelvis together. Then there’s a few bullet hole looking ones on my sides where drains and tubes were. I haven’t been intimate with someone since the surgeries, so no one has seen them. Maybe I should have worn a bikini in the shower so he could see them because my vision would have been too blurry to register any horror or pity in his expression.

  I close my eyes and move away from the mirror and push thoughts of Logan and my battered body from my head as I get dressed. It doesn’t matter anyway. Last night was weird and unexpectedly brought us closer into a quirky, not at all unpleasant friendship.

  I call Aspen and tell her what happened.

  “Why the hell didn’t you call me?” she asks. “I could have come to the hospital.”

  I sigh and lie back on the couch. “Because you’re pregnant and need all the rest you can get.”

  “I’d take care of you over sleeping, Chloe. Besides then you’d owe me and you’d have to babysit when I ask, which I’ll be doing a hell of a lot,” Aspen announces firmly and I smile.

  “I’ll remember that next time I knock myself out in a snow storm,” I reply.

  “That said, if I were you, I’d totally rather play doctor with Logan over me,” Aspen says and pauses. “How did that go? Did he think it was crazy you called him?”

  “He was understanding and professional,” I explain and bit my bottom lip. “Even after I barfed on his shoes.”

  “Oh Chloe!” Aspen bursts out in a fit of giggles.

  My cheeks get hot again. “I know. I’m the worst landlord in the history of landlords. Anyway, are you busy later this afternoon? Logan said I shouldn’t be alone all day and night if I can help it in case I get dizzy or barfy again. And I am not bothering him anymore. He is spending time with his kid today and then working.”

  “I would love to come over,” Aspen replies. “I’ll waddle over in a few hours. I just have to buy some crap for the nursery and I promised my brother Abbott I would run over to his place and check on the work he’s having done. He thinks the contractor put the light switch in the master bath in the wrong spot. He needs me to double check with a tape measure. The fact he’s doing renos when he’s playing hockey in Boston and can’t oversee it is super annoying. But if you need me sooner, just let me know and I’ll skip the Abbott crap and come right over.”

  “A few hours is good,” I smile. “I’ll make homemade pizza and we can watch a movie or something.”

  “I’ll bring dessert,” she announces. “See you in a bit.”

  “See you later.” I hang up, make some toast and another cup of coffee and then decide to start a fire in the fireplace and read. The fire building is more exhausting than normal and reading makes my headache worse, so I take a nap.

  I wake up two hours later to the sound of a car in the driveway and walk over to the window. Logan is getting out of his SUV and walking around to his apartment door. He glances up and stutter-steps when he sees me in the living room window. He smiles and waves. I smile and wave back, but I feel sheepish, almost embarrassed. He mouths the words “How are you?” and motions for me to come out on the porch.

  I shove my feet half into a pair of sneakers and step outside, making sure to lock Stevie and Boss in the house so they don’t bother Logan. “You doing okay?”

  I smile down at him and lean on the railing. “Yeah. Tried to read but got a headache so I napped. How about you? You must be exhausted.”

  He smiles, and I swear the sky should be jealous of how blue his eyes are. “Nah. Hanging out with River always energizes me. I’m sure I’ll hit a wall later tonight, but it was totally worth it to hear him squeal with delight while we careened down the hill. My boy loves adventure. Wasn’t scared even when we caught a little air.”

  His grin deepens with pride over his son’s bravery, and it makes my girl bits achy in the most delicious way. It’s a cliché, but it’s accurate: doting single dads light a fire in your ovaries.

  “I’ve never been tobogganing,” I say.

  He tilts his head just a little to the left and his right eyebrow quirks. “Not really a thing in Hawaii I’m guessing.”

  “Yeah, but it’s probably for the best. I don’t have the best luck with winter conditions, what with all the falling over and barfing on a cute guy’s shoes,” I say and once again want to dissolve into a puddle of embarrassment. Why did I just blurt out he was cute? The cool and casual section of my brain must have fallen out when I hit my head last night and is on the stairs somewhere. If he wasn’t still standing there, I’d drop down on my knees and start searching for it like a lost earring.

  “Oh, speaking of that,” Logan says, totally and blessedly ignoring my cute comment. He walks around the car and does a little wave towards his feet, which are clad in brand new, dark brown leather boots. They’re exactly like the old ones. That would make me think he’s a man of habit who doesn’t change his ways often or at all. But then the twinkle in his eyes when he smiles and the cheeky, bold way he talks sometimes, not to mention his high-stress, unpredictable job, says there’s more to him.

  “Nice. I really feel like I should pay for them though,” I say as I notice he’s got a Hawkins' Lobster Shack paper bag in his hand.

  “It’s fine. Honestly. They were almost falling apart anyway,” he shrugs. “I’m just not one to fix things sometimes until they’re broke, you know? It’s a bad habit.”

  “There are worse bad habits to have,” I say with a little shrug.

  “Oh, I’ve had those too,” he replies and there’s an air of seriousness around him suddenly. Yeah, th
ere is a lot to this guy. He’s got a lot of layers, and I kind of want to start peeling them back and discovering more. He holds up the bag. “But right now my worst habit is stealing extra lobster meat from the restaurant. Want some?”

  “After I ruined your shoes, you’re going to offer me free lobster meat?” I say smiling and trying not to salivate at the thought. I haven’t been able to afford fresh lobster since… well, ever.

  “You barfing on my shoes pushed me to get rid of them before the soles wore through, so consider the lobster meat a thank you,” he tells me. “And it tastes better when it’s stolen. I swear.”

  “I’ve never been rewarded with stolen seafood,” I laugh at the absurdity.

  “Like I said this morning, this thing between you and me is unique,” he says, laughing with me. He climbs the stairs and I meet him halfway and take the bag from him.

  “Thank you, Logan.”

  “You’re welcome, Chloe.”

  We just stare at each other for a long moment and even though there are no words, it feels like things are being said. His smile softens and he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to go grab a cat nap before I have to head off to work in a couple hours.”

  “Okay. Sweet dreams.” I watch him walk down the steps, and he keeps his eyes on me until he physically can’t anymore because the side of the house gets in the way. Despite having been outside without a jacket on, I feel warm after that conversation. It was easy and fun. I haven’t felt easy and fun with a man in forever.

  Smiling, I decide to busy myself in the kitchen, stashing the lobster meat in the fridge and pulling the cauliflower pizza crust out of the freezer, and start prepping the veggies and shredding the cheese. About an hour later, as I’m spreading my homemade pizza sauce on the crust, I hear another car in the drive. It’s followed by a door slamming and then Aspen’s distinctive laugh a couple minutes later. Wiping my hands on a dish towel, I walk to the door. Boss has already jumped up on the back of the couch and is growling but wagging his tail at the same time. Conflicted little nugget.

  I pat his head and glance out the window and freeze. Aspen is beside her car, and Logan is beside his. His navy paramedic uniform is visible through his open parka. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but her lips are moving a mile a minute and she flips her wild blonde curls when he chuckles at whatever it is she said. My stomach flips in a not-so-good way. Is she flirting with him? Is the nausea I’m feeling at that thought caused by concussion syndrome or jealousy? I don’t know what answer would frighten me more, to be honest.

  I walk to the front door, open it, and pick up Stevie before she can escape. I let Boss make his way down the steps. He barks once at Aspen and Logan and then runs into the yard to pee. I slip into my sneakers again and step out onto the porch. They both smile up at me.

  “Just heading to work,” Logan says with a casual smile. “You still doing okay?”

  “Fine. A little wave of nausea earlier but fine,” I say and regret it instantly. His face grows serious.

  “If that gets worse, text me,” he says.

  “I’ll make sure she does,” Aspen tells him with a smile.

  “Okay.” Logan opens his door but pauses before getting in. “They’re calling for more snow tonight, but do me a favor and let me shovel the steps when I get home.”

  “That’s not your responsibility, Logan,” I say, flustered.

  “Doctor’s orders,” Logan replies, and when he winks after the comment, the butterflies in my stomach flap their wings. “Seriously. I don’t mind. In fact, I’d prefer it.”

  “You’d prefer shoveling snow after a twelve-hour shift?” I say with an arched eyebrow, but he just nods emphatically.

  “You think I looked good in a swimsuit last night because of paramedic work?” he asks with a cheeky grin. “Shoveling is where it’s at for tight abs and developed pectorals.”

  He gets in his SUV and drives away. Both Aspen and I stand motionless, staring after him for a good forty seconds. Finally, very slowly, Aspen turns to face me, and I shake myself mentally and start down the stairs so Stevie can have a wee. Aspen’s blue eyes are wide with amazement. “How do you know what he looks like in a swimsuit?”

  Oh God. “Did I leave that part out?”

  I plop Stevie onto the snow-covered grass. She looks up at me with pure disdain but squats anyway. Aspen is by my side, one hand on her protruding belly and the other clutching my arm, tugging on it as she pleads. “Tell me immediately why you saw him in a swimsuit in a snowstorm and do not leave out a single detail.”

  “It’s not as sexy as it sounds,” I warn and point to the stitches on my forehead. “I was bloody and gross and was too concussed to shower alone.”

  “You showered with him!” Aspen’s mouth is open so wide I’m kind of shocked her chin isn’t in the snow bank.

  “In swimsuits,” I say and pick up both my dogs.

  Aspen raises her hands in the air. “I don’t care! Do you know how intimate it is to shower with someone? Dear sweet baby Jesus, girlfriend, you and Logan have started something. I could see it in the way his face changed when he saw you. I’ve known that boy my whole life, seen him mack on more girls than I can count, and even with his ex he didn’t look at her the way he looked at you just now. It was like—boom—fireworks. And now I know why. There was intimacy.”

  “Slow down there, kitten,” I warn. “This isn’t anything except a guy taking sympathy on a klutz with medical bills.”

  “That’s your concussion talking,” Aspen advises me as she follows me up the stairs. She really is waddling, but I would never say it aloud. She looks fabulous pregnant. Yeah she’s swollen, but she looks radiant anyway. “You’re confused, clearly. Maybe I should tell him to give you a full exam.”

  She laughs and I roll my eyes as we step into the house, and I put the dogs down as she shrugs out of her coat. Boss growls at her. Stevie gives her a bark and trots off. Aspen scowls at both of them and pulls a bag of donuts from her oversized purse. “Dessert! Which I will not share with you even though I feel bad for you with that nasty gash on your head if you don’t admit that you and Logan could have a thing.”

  “We can’t have a thing,” I reply as we walk into the kitchen. I check the oven, which was preheating, and see it’s ready, so I open the door and reach for the pizza, but Aspen is stealing cheese from it, so I swat at her.

  “Why can’t you have a thing?” Aspen questions as I replace the cheese she stole. “Because you’re his landlord? Who cares?”

  I carry the pizza to the oven and slide it onto the rack, then close the door and set the timer. “Because of that, yes, and also because now it’s all weird.”

  Aspen thinks about that, twirling a ringlet around a finger, and grins. “But not because you don’t find him attractive?”

  I feel my cheeks pink and smile sheepishly. “I find him attractive. And really nice. And he’s probably the most charming man I’ve ever met. But it’s not going to happen.”

  “Why the hell not?” Aspen is genuinely frustrated. “Look, like I’ve said, I know Logan. This random, awkward way you guys met and ended up showering together, it’s probably the only way he would actually start something with someone. And I know I’ve only known you a few months, but it feels like you’re the same, sister. Avoiding relationships and feelings at all costs unless you collide with them head-on by accident.”

  I turn to face her and open my mouth to explain to her how wrong she is, but nothing comes out. Aspen crosses her arms over her ample chest and gives me a smug smirk. “I’m waiting.”

  I sigh. “You mentioned earlier watching him mack on a million girls.”

  “Nice change of subject,” she replies and waddles over to my fridge and grabs the pitcher of filtered water from inside. “I didn’t say a million. I said more than I can count. Anyway, that’s when we were all young and stupid, and he was drunk as a skunk most of the time.”

  “He says he’s sober now.”

  “H
e is,” Aspen nods and places the pitcher and two glasses on the island in front of her before climbing up on one of my stools. She sighs as soon as she’s sitting and rubs her belly through the long sweater she’s sporting. “And so are you, which makes another reason why you should be together. I’m an idiot for not actually setting you guys up on purpose. I blame baby brain.”

  I laugh. “You’re way too aggressive about this.”

  “You’re not aggressive enough,” she counters and fills both glasses with water. “I haven’t had sex since I got pregnant. I mean, not with another human, and I’m desperate. Meanwhile you haven’t had sex in five years, and you’re not willing to pursue a man who is your knight in shining armor and looks at you like you’re Cinderella at the ball even after you puked on his shoes.”

  Aspen is looking at me like I’m insane.

  “Well, when you say it that way, not only do I sound crazy, but you do too,” I laugh. “So, tell me where we are with baby names.”

  She frowns because I’m changing the subject again but for the next fifteen minutes while the pizza bakes, she tells me about the never ending list of potential names. She hasn’t found out the sex because she said since this whole thing has been a surprise, she might as well keep that trend going. So she’s got about fifty names on her list and as she tells me the most recent additions, she opens up like never before. “Billy is my favorite for a boy or a girl, but I don’t have the balls to use it. It has a family tie to the sperm donor.”

  She has never, in our six month friendship, mentioned the father. She’s been very clear it was an accidental pregnancy and he’s not involved but that’s it. “Anyway, sometimes I get stupid sentimental and think I should include something to do with him, but then the hormone wave passes.”

  If you’d asked me ten years ago if I would have a friend as wild and bold as Aspen Barlowe, I would have told you no way. But she’s amazing and I couldn’t imagine my life without her despite the fact that everything about us is completely opposite. “What did he say when you told him you were pregnant?”